


Perfect Cadence

by wildpeace



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-09
Updated: 2003-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildpeace/pseuds/wildpeace
Summary: If life is a song, then you can but follow where the music takes you.





	Perfect Cadence

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Perfect Cadence**

**by:** Bluefairy

**Disclaimer:** So obviously not mine it isn’t even funny.  No infringement intended.  
**Category:** Sam/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN (only for a few words)  
**Summary:** If life is a song, then you can but follow where the music takes you.   
**Author's Note:** This was supposed to just be something to fill the void so I wouldn’t have to do my Chartism essay, it sort of took on its own life when it hit about 1am!  A lot of Dr Pepper went in to the writing of this, many emails and text messages too.

All my thanks to my two Rachels: Rach, the unbiased pair of eyes who is always kind, but promises to be mean if being mean is called for, and Rachey, who has pulled me out of many a hole with a well timed bag of Starmix and viewing of I&I, and who gave me this idea in the first place.  Big hugs and kisses to the both of you.  I owe you!

Feedback appreciated.  Thanks to all who replied to ‘Echoes’, it was all so nice!  After all, who do we write for if not the people who will read?

It was dark - really, really dark.  She didn’t think it had been this dark a few moments ago.  She was cold ... shivering she thought, and she wondered why it hurt.  Her head was throbbing; she could feel her heart beat behind her eyes, in her ears.  

Her mouth tasted like when she used to suck on pennies as a child, and her father would scold her.  Her lips felt wet, warm, and her toes were beginning to tingle.  She tried to wiggle them, to return some feeling, but she couldn’t quite get the message to her brain.  

She thought she could hear someone calling her name.  She knew she should recognise the voice, but it was as though her mind was surrounded with cotton wool.  She wanted to call back ... the man who was looking for her sounded rather panicked ... but her voice didn’t seem to want to obey.  

"Ainsley!" 

She wasn’t even meant to be on the trip, not really.  She had nothing to do with the Midterms, but she had been added at the last moment, after Leo had visited her office to find her rewinding and re-watching tapes of the speeches, scribbling notes for someone to give him when they got to California.  Leo decided that it would be a good idea for her to give them to Sam herself. 

_Sam,_ that was whom the voice belonged to!  She knew she should have recognised it, they had bickered and bantered and argued enough.  She missed arguing with him when he went to California.  She understood why he did it, Congress was a great opportunity for him, but she still missed him.  

So she had jumped at the chance to go on the California trip, dancing around her office as soon as Leo had left.  She couldn’t help smiling, and she wasn’t sure she had stopped; she thought she might have been smiling the whole time they were in the Golden State.  

She had been so looking forward to seeing him again that she hadn’t been able to sit still on Air Force One.  She had been fidgeting almost as bad as Josh, who sat across the aisle from her with Donna, his wife of two months. 

Josh fell asleep after an hour or so, much to the pleasure of everyone on board, which gave Donna a chance to study her.  It was such a funny look that it made her laugh.  _What?_ she asked, stretching her arms up, feeling her spine pop.  Donna didn’t reply, she just shook her head and looked out of the window with a small smile, as if she had just figured out a great secret.

God, she hoped Donna was okay, and Josh and, oh God, she had heard the metal, the glass shattering, the breaks.  She knew she hadn’t been alone in the limo, but she was alone now.  She could hear her own breathing, and she prayed that everyone else was all right. 

" Ainsley!"  

She was so tired, she wanted to sleep, but she wanted to make sure that everyone was safe first.  She wanted to call out to him, so he would find her, but she couldn’t seem to make a noise.  He would find it funny that she was forced to be silent, he must have wished for it so many times.  

When they had met up with him at his campaign headquarters she had hung back for a while.  After more subdued but no less joyous meetings with the President, First Lady and Leo, CJ had squeezed him, praised him and ruffled his hair.  Josh had hugged him, grinning, before slapping him on the back, congratulating him on his numbers and then laughing at something he said.  He had held his hands out for Donna, who blushed before embracing him and kissing him on the cheek.  He took a step back and swept her body with his eyes, before raising an eyebrow and whispering something in her ear, which caused her to blush even more, grin and shake her head slightly.  Toby had shuffled his feet, looked him in the eye and quoted part of his most recent speech.  A simple _Good job_ had left him with a huge grin on his face when he turned and saw her.  

She had stayed hovering by the door, not wanting to intrude on a private and seemingly intimate reunion.  She unconsciously brushed her hands over her skirt; they were cold and clammy.  Swallowing convulsively, she smiled at him, hoping for a smile, for a hello.  

What she received was a bigger grin.  He folded his arms across his chest, and gave her a look she recognised very well.  _I obviously need to up my security if you managed to sneak your sweet Republican self in here,_ he joked, before pulling her to him and enveloping her, holding her close to his body.  

When he pulled back he kept the smile on his face, and reached out his hand to touch her face.  _You look good Ainsley,_ he said quietly.  _I like the hair._  He fingered the soft waves, which fell past her shoulders.  

She must have blushed so much, she thought, because her ears had even felt warm.  She had grinned though, pushing her hair back unconsciously.  _You look like you haven’t slept for a month,_ she retorted, but she smiled as she did it, touched his hand.  _I liked the Education speech._

This caused him to laugh, and to ask a question that started them off on an old and familiar debate. Eventually the others ended up joining in, good naturedly, until Sam decided that they would carry the conversation on later, over beers or grasshoppers or pink squirrels, or whatever other kind of animalised and absurd drinks they wished.  

It had been so good to see him again, to argue with him again.  In the bar they had sat next to each other, and he had mocked her for being a lightweight, and she had poked him and called him the spawn of the Democratic devil.  He had stuck his tongue out at her like a child, and she had laughed and called him immature.  

Josh and CJ had been going around and around on whether the East Coast was better then the West.  Donna, snuggled into Josh’s side, was trying to extol the virtues of the Midwest, but that had ended up with teasing about being a _‘farm-girl’_.  

The argument ended up seizing the attentions of the whole table.  Toby, already onto his fourth or fifth Jack Daniels, was in good spirits and heartily fighting for the East with Josh.  Sam jumped in to help CJ defend the West.  Ainsley and Donna banded together to represent the rest of the country, but just ended up giggling most of the night, and being labelled (after quite a few drinks) as _‘farm-girl’_ and her sidekick _‘the she-devil O’Hara wannabe’._

The six of them had wandered back to the Presidential party’s hotel that night with morale sky high.  After offering his arm to her as they left the bar, teasing her and calling her _‘Scarlet’_ , she and Sam had walked all the way arm-in-arm.  

They had all said goodbye to Sam in the lobby.  He, of course, had an apartment of his own that he had to go back to.  Toby and CJ left first, promising to see Sam tomorrow.  Josh and Donna lingered a little longer, chatting and laughing, before she convinced him that he needed to sleep.  They said goodnight before Josh led Donna upstairs, his hand on the small of her back.  

Sam watched them go, his eyes sentimental and sparkling.  _Jealous?_ she asked, rubbing her eyes, but not wanting to go to bed yet.  He turned back to her as she spoke, and chuckled softly.

_They never gave up on each other._ He brushed her hair with his hand, looking her in the eye.  _Who wouldn’t be jealous of that?_ Then leaning in he kissed her lightly on the mouth.  Pulling back his perfect Colgate smile radiated the happiness in his words.  _I’m glad you came,_ he told her, and she could feel her heart flip.  _I missed you._

_I missed you too,_ she admitted.  _Even though you’re a bleeding heart Liberal._  She grabbed his tie and pulled him back for another kiss.  She thought maybe it should have been strange, kissing him - they had been friends for a long time, and they had argued for most of it - but she didn’t find it strange at all.  She found it the most natural thing.

Pulling away, she flashed him a grin before turning and heading towards the elevators.  Grabbing her by the arm he stopped her.  _I thought Republicans didn’t kiss on the first date?_ he asked softly, teasing, mocking in his voice.  

She flicked her hair back and batted her eyelashes, before answering.  _It’s only cause you’re the Master, Sam,_ she answered in the same tone, taking a step into him.  _After this they’ll throw me out of the GOP for sure._

Laughing, he released her arm, and watched her as began to walk away.  _Tease,_ he called after her, which caused her to sashay her hips even more.  

_Flirt,_ she called back, as the doors to the elevator opened.  

When she turned back she realised he was still standing in the lobby, watching her.  _I’ll see you tomorrow?_  The mocking was gone from his voice, he sounded almost…nervous.  

She grinned as she stepped inside.  Turning to face him she nodded, _If you’re a good boy._ He was still laughing when the doors to the elevator slid shut, and she began her ascension.  

This trip had started out better then she could have imagined, and there was so much hope, so much promise of what was to come.  She couldn’t have envisaged the turn that the tides would take.  She couldn’t have for seen that she would taste blood in her mouth, and be struggling to stay awake.

" Ainsley!" 

Her vision was getting cloudier.  God, how she wished he would hurry.  She would apologise, she was sorry.  She hadn’t meant it to sound the way it came out.  She just wanted to be able to see him, to tell him that.  She wished her hands would stop shaking.  

She had never really been that good a waiting for things.  Her father had called her impatient more than once in her youth.  Her teachers called her it, because she was never happy to be sitting still or playing.  She always wanted to be learning something new.  

They had been in California for a week and she had seen him every day, sometimes professionally, but after their initial meeting about his speeches, mostly socially.  She had lost count of the amount of times she had kissed him now, which was strange considering their first kiss had only been that week.  She wasn’t usually so forward, or fast moving. 

The others quickly worked out that something was going on.  They had sat with them in the bars and watched them flirt.  They had realised when Ainsley wasn’t in her hotel room after the third night.  They noticed that both Sam and Ainsley had been walking around with huge grins for days, and Donna swore that she had seen a hickey on Sam’s neck when he had been changing his tie.  

The others didn’t mind, of course.  They had seen the warning signs when she kicked his ass on National television, when she had danced in front of him in a bathrobe, when he obsessed over not sexually harassing her, or when he fired those who wished to hurt or harm her.  All the teasing, tussling and strutting of their stuff had inevitably led to this; just as Josh handing Donna his Campaign badge, after five minutes of knowing her, had inevitably led to their marriage.  

She remembered brushing her hair in the mirror, watching him read the paper in bed, naked except for his glasses.  _We’re going home Friday,_ she told him, even though he already knew.  They had known how long they had together when they started out.  

He put down the paper and looked at her.  She watched him in the mirror, his face falling, then toughening, as though he was trying to steel himself against a blow.  _I know._ His voice was carefully neutral, as if he was waiting for her to start talking before he would set his hopes high or low.  

She picked up her bag from the floor, rifled through it for her stockings.  Pulling them on, she avoided looking at him.  _I’ll be back in DC; you’ll still be here in California._ She was stating the obvious, she knew, but she wanted to provoke some kind of reaction.  _It’ll be difficult for us to carry this on._

He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans.  _You hungry?_ he avoided the point.  _You want a muffin or something?_ He wasn’t looking at her, but she could see his eyes beginning to harden.  She felt terrible, she knew she was hurting him, but it wasn’t as though he hadn’t known she would be going when they started on this…whatever it was they were doing.  It wasn’t as though she wasn’t hurting too.  She cared about him, dammit, she didn’t want this too end, but it would be so, so difficult to continue this long distance.  

_I’m not hungry,_ she told him, which caused him to laugh.  

_Ainsley Hayes, not hungry?  Stop the press - I think we have ourselves a headline._ He was trying to be light, joking, but his voice had a bitter edge, a hint of blame.  As though she were purposely inflicting pain on him.  He pulled on his socks and then sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from her.  

She stepped into her skirt, zipped it up.  _It’s not as though I want to go Sam, but I have to._ She was trying to carry on the conversation, no matter how one sided, because some of the things had to be said.  She searched through her bag for a shirt, slipping it on over still slightly wet shoulders.  

He ran a hand through his hair.  _Why do you have to?_ He sounded sad, disappointed, like a little boy, but she couldn’t let her wish not to hurt him sway her case. 

_Why do I have to go?_ she repeated, and he nodded, without looking at her.  He stayed staring out of the window.  _Because we live in different States Sam,_ she explained, needlessly.  He knew the reasons as well as she did, _we live on two different sides of the country._

He stood up, walked over to her and gripped her shoulders.  She realised then quite how small she was in comparison, how much of a force he could be if he chose to be, and she chose to let him.  _Did you mean it when you said you loved me?_ he asked, his voice quiet, but so, so intense.

She couldn’t lie.  She hadn’t meant him to hear, she hadn’t meant to tell him, but lying in his arms in the twilights glow, held closely, warm and safe, she couldn’t stop the words tumbling out.  _Yes, I meant it._ She looked up into his piercing blue eyes, that were staring, unblinking, into hers. _You know I did._

He leaned down, rested his forehead on hers.  _Then don’t leave me,_ he requested, wrapping his arms around her.  She rested her head on his chest, feeling his heart beating inside.  It was racing, scared and anxious, furious against his ribs.  

She kissed the bare skin, splayed her small hand across and took a step back.  _I have to Sam._ She tried to sound forceful, definite.  _That’s where everything is._

_Not me,_ he reminded her, as he sat back down on the edge of the bed.  As though she needed reminding.  She pushed her hair back, rubbing her temples with her fingers.  She could feel a headache coming on.  

She stood in front of him, relishing for once being taller, even if it was only because he was sitting down.  He reached out his hands and began to button her shirt for her.  _My job is there Sam - the White House - remember that?_  

He nodded his head.  _Yeah, I remember.  You think what I’m doing here is for fun?  I thought you understood better then that._ He was beginning to get angry, and she wasn’t sure Sam had ever been truly angry with her.  She almost wanted him to lose it, just to see what it would be like.  

She did understand what he was there for.  She knew he had plans, real plans for the future, for that House to become his.  And she believed he would get there too.  He had passion, drive, real morals and a want to do something great, to change things and make their country better for all the people that lived in it.  As much as she didn’t always agree with what he thought was best, she knew he meant to do as well as he could for the people he served.  _I do understand Sam,_ she said.  _And it only goes to further my point.  You have to concentrate on what you’re doing.  This is too important for you to mess up cause your head’s not in the game._

He laughed again, still sounding upset, but diffused for now.  _God, you sound like Toby,_ his voice rang, causing her to stick her tongue out at him, which in turn caused him to grab her and throw her on the bed, tickling her until she apologised.  

The fight had been averted for a while, but she knew it was still looming on the horizon, waiting to strike when her back was turned.  Choosing between love and duty, one of the oldest stories in the book.  If only she could remember the ending, then she would know which choice to pick.  

"Ainsley!" 

Oh God, it was burning now ... her head and her eyes and her arms, even her fingers hurt.  She was sure she shouldn’t still be awake.  Didn’t most people pass out after events like this?  She couldn’t remember the last time she had passed out.  It must have been when she was a teenager.  Probably when she was in college and caught Mono.  

"Ainsley!" 

It sounded as though he was getting closer, and she prayed that he was, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait for him.  She said she would wait as long as she had to, they both had agreed to that.  They had decided that they cared about each other too much for this just to be a fling, and no matter how long it took them to be in the same place again, they would wait for each other.  

The last thing they were to do while still in California was for the President to give a speech at a DNC fundraiser.  It was supposed to be a huge party, and they were all going.  Sam was there as a now prominent Californian Democrat, and the rest were there to accompany the President.  That, and it was a great excuse for them all to kick back and enjoy themselves for an evening.  

She had been sceptical about going, even after Sam had invited her personally to accompany him.  _But they’ll know,_ she tried to explain, earning her a laugh from him as he sat behind his desk sorting through files.  

_You afraid they’re going to sacrifice you for getting Republican juice on them?_ he asked, raising his eyebrows as she flopped into the chair across from him.  He put down the folder he was studying and diverted his attention to her.  

She had picked a pen up from his desk and was twirling it around her fingers like a baton.  _I don’t know Sam; I’ve never been to a Democratic fundraiser before,_ she drawled, not looking him in the eye, worried that he would see her actual trepidation.  _What if they ask me a password or something?_

He laughed at this, stretching his arms in front of him and taking his glasses off.  _You really think we have a password?_ he asked, his voice teasing.  He pulled at the knot in his tie to loosen it and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.  

She watched him do this, her head cocked to one side.  _Don’t you?_ she asked, recalling a similar conversation from years before.   She stopped playing with the pen, and held it still in her fist.  

Sam put his glasses back on and looked down at the folder on his desk.  _Yes,_ he said simply, and then looked up at her with a grin on his face.  

Realising he was mocking her, she threw her pen at him and stuck out her tongue.  He fumbled to catch the pen, almost falling out of his chair as he did so.  This left him scrabbling with the edge of his desk and her giggling at him from her seat.  Once he had regained his balance, and she had caught her breath he looked at her again, this time all joking gone from his face.  _It’ll be your last night in California,_ he reminded her.  

She averted her eyes to look down at her neat manicured fingernails.  _I know,_ she said softly, raising her eyes to look at him.  All mirth was gone from her countenance now.  _I know that._

_So you’ll come?_ he asked, sounding every bit as desperate and nervous as when he first asked her back to his apartment.  Worried she would say no, and then he would have to live with the knowledge that she had refused him.  He waited for her response without breaking eye contact, even though every second he waited was killing him just that little bit more. 

She knew this, she knew him well enough to know that she couldn’t say no to him.  _Yes, I’ll come,_ she promised. 

He stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.  He leaned on the desk and took her hands in his.  _And I promise not to let anyone sacrifice you,_ he smiled.  

She stood up, straightened her shirt and picked up her bag.  Placing a hand on his shoulder she leaned in to kiss him and then pulling back, she checked her watch. _I gotta go,_ she told him, but he laced his arms around her waist and pulled her in for another kiss.  _Sam,_ she drawled, accentuating the Y that wasn’t even in his name.  

Nodding, he smiled and removed his arms.  _Okay,_ he told her, returning to the other side of the desk.  _I’ll see you later._

_You’re coming to the hotel?_ she asked, with her hand on the doorknob.  

He picked up a pen and sat back down in his chair.  He was careful this time to sit carefully.  _Yeah, I’ll be coming in the motorcade._ There was a wistful smile on his face; he hadn’t been in the motorcade with his friends for years.  

Opening the door she nodded.  _Okay,_ she told him, _I’ll see you then._

She couldn’t have imagined what her agreement would have led to.  She wasn’t sure whether she caused it; it might have just been one of those things.  Post hoc ergo propter hoc.  After therefore because of it.  Or was that true?  Maybe some things just happened, without real cause or reason. 

"Ainsley!"  

She hoped he would see it that way.  Knowing him, he would probably try and find a way to blame what had happened on himself.  He was no Josh, but he certainly had the ability to feel guilty for things he had no control over, if he set his mind to it.  

Her dark clouded vision meant that she couldn’t see her arms or her legs or her body, but she was beginning to smell the scent of blood.  God, she hoped it was her own; she didn’t want any one else to be hurt.  She wondered where it was coming from; she couldn’t pinpoint pain, other than to say there was a lot of it.  

She tried to shift slightly, and she could feel the smooth silk of her dress slide against her skin.  It was meant to be a good night, celebration and relaxation.  It was meant to be fun: food and drinks and dancing.  There wasn’t meant to be smashing glass and screaming.  God, she had heard the screaming so loud; she wasn’t sure whether it came from her own mouth or somebody else’s.  

He had whistled appreciatively when he first saw her.  _Enough to make a good dog break it’s leash,_ he teased, echoing words which at one time he feared she would misunderstand.  Now he said them with a smirk, all-be-it sincere, and pulled her to him in the empty lobby.  He smoothed his hands over the Claret coloured silk at her waist, and eyed the plunging neckline enthusiastically.  

Noticing his gaze she laughed and tipped his chin up so he was looking her in the eye.  Shaking her head, she smoothed down the lapel of his tuxedo.  _Incorrigible,_ she intoned softly, pushing him lightly away.  

Grabbing her hand he leaned in and kissed her perfectly painted pout.  _Insatiable,_ he corrected, and was about to kiss her again when the elevator doors dinged, and the others joined them in the lobby.  

The First Lady grabbed the women almost as soon as she came downstairs.  Perfectly coiffed, she complemented them all on their outfits, although she did grouse on CJ slightly for not showing enough skin.  CJ just laughed and pointed out that Donna had more skin covered then she did, and the First Lady wasn’t giving her the third degree.  

They began walking out the door, and it was only at this point that Ainsley realised that they had subconsciously fallen into pairs.  The First Lady and The President walked next to CJ and Toby.  _That’s because she’s married CJ,_ she answered, and then shot a knowing look at Donna, _though some people don’t let that stop them._ Donna just grinned almost guiltily from her place next to Josh, looking utterly stunning in her powder blue gown, no matter how much skin it did or did not show.

They had split up to go in the limos: The President and First Lady in one, joined by Charlie and Zoey.  Leo, CJ and Toby were in the other and Sam, Ainsley, Josh and Donna took the third.  They bundled in like seniors on their way to Prom, laughing and giggling.  There was no seriousness, just the four of them making the most of the little time they had together.  

Donna and Josh sat as close together as was physically possible, constantly touching, even if it was only hands or fingers.  Sam mocked them for it, called them _sickeningly sweet,_ but Ainsley just batted his arm and told him not to make fun.  At her request he reached down and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.  On the other side of the car, Josh and Donna shared a small smile at their expense.  

They had talked and chatted about nothing of consequence; Donna told Ainsley about their wedding pictures, about a particularly nice one she had of her and CJ.  They talked about Charlie and Zoey, gladdening in the fact that they were back together after their break-up, about how they made a perfect couple.  When Sam expressed that they had _overcome so much to be together in the first place,_ Donna’s eyes began to tear up.  Ainsley knew what memories Sam’s words unearthed for Donna, and so she found it almost painfully sweet to see Josh comforting her with a feather light touch and whispered words.  Sam looked almost guilty.  _Sorry,_ he mouthed to Donna across the limo, but she just waved him off.  She knew he never meant to upset her purposely.  

When they arrived they were escorted into a party in full swing.  Apparently the President had been fashionably late.  Sam caught hold of Ainsley’s hand in an attempt not to lose her in the crowd.  Straight away some old friends accosted CJ, and she left the group to Toby’s call; _watch out for the pool._ Moments after, possibly as Karmic retribution, Toby himself was pulled in to a conversation he would rather have avoided.  

Josh and Donna had barely made it in the door when they were met with the flying hands and beaming grins of Joey Lucas and Kenny Thurman, who they had thought were in Tulsa.  Josh grabbed the petite blonde and swung her around before kissing her on the cheek and delving into a fast paced conversation.  Sam had commented to Ainsley once that he thought if Josh’s sister hadn’t died when she was 12, she would have grown up to be a lot like Joey.  

Leo and the President were schmoozing, though they looked like they were having fun, and Ainsley had lost sight of the First Lady, Charlie and Zoey.  

Sam grabbed a passing waiter and gallantly obtained them two glasses of champagne.  He offered one to her as a student offering his favourite teacher an apple.  She took it and sipped it demurely, and she could feel him watching her, a Southern belle joke balancing on his tongue, straining to be unleashed though a calculated smile and a slight batting of the eyelashes caused him to bite it back.

As they walked through the room many people stopped to talk to Sam, congratulating him, asking his advice and some just wanting to talk.  He gave them all time, he smiled, was eloquent and charming.  He introduced her to all that stopped him, and some gave her funny looks when her name was spoken.  She asked Sam about this after the less than subtle questioning looks she had been getting through out his conversation with one of California’s most influential Democratic businessmen, but he just leaned down and mockingly whispered in her ear: _they know._

They stopped for a while to watch the centre of the floor, which had been turned into an impromptu dance floor after the President had grabbed the First Lady’s hand and pulled her in to sway to the sounds of the string quartet, and now it was crammed with people who had taken their lead from their leader.  

Without words, Sam held out his hand to her.  She took it, and followed him onto the floor.  He held her close to his body, so close that she could feel his heartbeat through his jacket.  They swayed to the music, watching the people around them, laughing as Zoey dragged Leo up, and he agreed: _as long as you don’t think you’re dancing on my feet._

The first time Josh passed them it was with Joey, a smirk and a chuckle.  She said something that they either did not quite hear, or did not understand.  Ainsley swore she had heard the words _fishing waders,_ but thought that she must had heard them wrong.  She and Sam just looked at each other and shrugged.  

There was a marked contrast in Josh when he passed them the second time.  Instead of laughing, he was silent, and rather then jovial he looked simply content.  For he was now in the arms of his wife, and his eyes betrayed that to him, there was nobody else in the room.  Seeing this, Sam grinned and held her a fraction tighter.  

She sighed and leaned in to him, wishing that this didn’t have to end, but knowing that it did.  She would wait for him, but she would not follow him, she would not give up all she had worked for for him.  She had promised her father that she would never do that.  She had listened to Donna, who had given up her life for a man when she was young and naïve, and had hated him for making her do it, and more over herself for ever betraying her own plans and her own future.  

Yet she looked at Donna now.  Many people, in huddled, whispered circles consisting of mainly feminists and journalists and Republicans said that she had given up her life for Josh.  That because she spent so much time being his assistant, the nature to follow his orders would bleed into their personal relationship as well.  But Ainsley just didn’t see it.  For one, Donna had never followed Josh’s orders, personal or professional, and anyways, Donna had found happiness in Josh, and Ainsley didn’t think that Josh would ever let Donna give up her future dreams for him ... he loved her too much for that.  

When the violinist announced the final dance, Ainsley couldn’t help but look at Sam’s face.  She knew he was thinking the same thing that she was: last dance, last moments together.  They were flying back to DC as soon as the Fundraiser was over.  His eyes were glazed for a moment, but then they softened as he realised she was looking up at him.  He leaned down, mouth so close to her ear that his breath tickled; _It’s the Coda ... the final section of the piece,_ he whispered.  She was sure he was referring to more than simply the music.  

Looking around her, she watched The President and First Lady gently moving to the music, Charlie and Zoey sitting by the edge of the floor, faces close and lips meeting periodically; Joey and Kenny silent, yet in intense conversation, and lastly Josh and Donna, lightly laughing as she fingered his bowtie, and his hand rested tenderly on her hip.  Then she turned her sparkling saphire gaze back to Sam.  _I think this is the Sonata,_ she corrected, _the first movement in a greater work._

He smiled softly, shaking his head a little as he kissed her forehead.  He held her close until the music finished - a little longer actually - until the final echoes of the muted strings rippled into silence.  He did not want to let her go.  

But, of course, he had to.  The party began to move, and Josh waylaid Sam just as Ainsley felt a hand on her arm.  Donna smiled at her.  _Coming to get your coat?_ she asked, an invitation to go with her.  Ainsley smiled, and nodded, walking across the floor with the taller woman to the area in which they had checked their coats and purses.  

As Donna collected her purse, and wound her wrap around her shoulders, she looked at the smaller woman.  _So,_ she said with a glint of mischief, of gossip, _are we going to have to start looking for a new White House Deputy Counsel?_  Donna was grasping for information about her and Sam’s relationship, and had it been anyone else, she probably would have skirted around the question, but this was Donna, who she had known for years, who she had gossiped with over yoghurt and muffins and coffee a hundred times.  She had listened to rehashings of every major chapter in the Donna/Josh saga ... Donna had trusted her enough to share that ... so she felt she should return the favour.

God, she wished she hadn’t.  She wished she had told Donna that she didn’t want to talk about it, even that it was none of her business, though that would have been a lie.  But she would have, if it would make a difference to where she was now: cold, shivering, dark and so very, very alone.  

"Ainsley!"

It was like a bad comedy, a farce really.  A perfect example of disaster caused by the collision of clumsy words and awful timing.  And of his little seen quick temper, fused with his little boy’s ego.  So easily hurt, and God, she had never wanted that.  She had seen his eyes in the moment before he turned away.  She wondered that she couldn’t hear his heart breaking.  A cliché, but she swore that in the stormy depths of his eyes, she had seen the exact instant that she had ruined everything.  

Donna had waited patiently for an answer as she thought.  She reached across as the Aide passed her silken purse.  _I don’t think so,_ she answered honestly, not hearing the pair of footsteps approaching from behind.  Then, because this was Donna, and she would understand that she was in search of reassurance, and this was simply her own uncertainty and self-deprecation, she admitted: _This may just be a temporary thing after all.  I’m not really sure it’s going anywhere._

What she had expected to hear, what she wanted to hear were Donna’s firm and definite tones telling her that she was being silly, and that this certainly was going somewhere and that she knew that Sam really cared about her, and of course this wasn’t a temporary thing.  The words she truly heard she thought might be burned into her mind forever: _I can’t believe you just said that._

She spun around, locked gazes with him, but she couldn’t say anything.  She should have been explaining, should have been putting her words into context ... that she thought **that** was what **he** would think - but before she could issue forth an clarification, he was gone, out into the California night. 

Josh had been standing next to Sam.  He remained there, dumbstruck, unsure of what to do for a moment.  He and Donna seemed to communicate a whole conversation with simply a look; Josh took off after Sam a moment later, leaving the two women standing in the hall.

_I didn’t mean it like that,_ Ainsley said, finally regaining the power of speech, though by now it seemed far too late.  She turned to Donna, whose eyes had followed her husband out the door.  _I didn’t mean it like that,_ she repeated.  She could feel the tears begin to well up in her eyes ... she had ruined everything ... though she refused to cry.  She wouldn’t.  

Donna put her arm around her briefly.  _I’ll talk to him,_ she promised, _I’ll explain._ Because she did know what the smaller woman had meant.  She turned to face her and gripped her upper arm.  _He’ll understand._ But Ainsley knew that he wouldn’t.  She hadn’t known him as long as Donna, but she knew him well enough to know that.  Right now, he was so hurt and angry he would argue himself into or out of anything.  Hell, he was probably so mad he would say that Reagan had been the best President to date, just so someone would argue with him, so he could vent his anger.  

Donna stopped for a moment and watched out of the door.  Josh had caught up with Sam, who had tried to brush him off, push him away, until Josh had yelled something and Sam had stopped.  They were talking and Sam’s body language spoke volumes of his hurt and rage.  Donna began out of the door, towards the motorcade, dragging Ainsley with her.  _Go in the limo back with Toby and CJ.  Leo’s not going back with them, he needs to talk to the President, so go back with them.  I’ll talk to Sam, he’ll calm down.  Go in the limo with Toby and CJ._

She left her standing on the pavement, the slight night wind causing her skin to chill, causing her to shiver.  She walked to the limo in a daze; Donna had grabbed Josh by the limo in front, and was talking frantically to him.  Explaining, Ainsley surmised.  Josh raised a hand to his head, a headache most likely forming from too much champagne and her stupid, stupid words.  How her mistake was snowballing! 

CJ and Toby were waiting by the other limo.  When she approached, Toby gave her a sceptical look and she was sure he would have asked why she was there, except CJ stopped him.  Ainsley was sure it was the look on her face, the look any woman would recognise and understand, and in her mind she thanked CJ for keeping Toby quiet, because she wasn’t sure she could face his jibes right now.  

In the limo she sat as far into the corner as she could, staring out of the window.  She wished to merge into the walls, to blur as the scenery that flew past, like Monet.  She had always wondered why it was that you could only see the beauty of Monet when you were standing far away from it.  You could never look too deeply or the magic would be gone.  

And selfishly, stupidly in the moment she wished she could die.  She wished that so she wouldn’t have to look at the hurt on his face.  Because, God, it hurt and God, she loved him so much that she would die without him.

She was going to die without him, she was sure.  It was almost as though she could feel herself ebbing away.  Little by little, the clouds floated in, covering the perfectly clear sky she wasn’t sure there had ever been.  She felt not asleep, not awake, like at that perfect moment between dreams and reality, in which everything seems possible.  But all possibilities seemed tainted now, tarnished and tattered because even if she lived, wouldn’t it be a half-life if he never forgave her?

"Ainsley!" 

She was sorry, so sorry.  Words and images of past and present and future spun themselves together.  It wasn’t exactly her life flashing before her eyes, because she was sure some of it hadn’t really happened to her.  Maybe it had been in a movie?  She couldn’t remember, she was so confused, and so very, very tired.  She wished he would hurry, so he could wrap his arms around her, kiss her shoulder the way he always did before succumbing to sleep.  So she would wake up in the morning to his piercing blue gaze, and all of this would have been a dream.  

Her eyes had been closed, she hadn’t even seen what had happened, she still wasn’t sure, still didn’t understand the movements that had proceeded.  Something had spun, out of control.  They were thrown, she hit up against the side of something, she felt something hit into her.  The screaming of brakes like banshees that cried and moaned and it was so, so sudden and she really didn’t understand it.  There had been feelings, being struck and falling maybe.  There was shattering and she might have hit her head because there were chunks of time where she wasn’t sure what had happened.  She wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.  

At first she had been so stunned, that she didn’t think to call out for help.  It took her a long time to recall what had happened.  Sections of the evening floated in and out, until a prefect recollection was back piece-by-piece into her mind.  It had taken him a long time to start calling for her.  Maybe it took a long time for them to realise that not all were present and correct.  There may have even been other people calling, but he was the only one she heard.  

They had been discordant from the first time they had met, battling with different times and rhythms.  He was upbeat, fast paced, natural and lyrical but with such a sincere and basic undertone that she couldn’t help but be caught up in him.  She, on the other hand, was a fusion.  Sometimes sharp, modern and jazzy ... Bach on an electric piano, and other times she was so straightforward, so simple and everything made so much sense.  Pacabel by a single string.  

"Ainsley!" 

Things had moved so fast, allegro, and run so deep as a cello’s thickest string that she couldn’t help but wonder when they would come to an end.  Even the longest pieces had a final movement, or were destined to be as Beethoven.  An unfinished symphony.  

"Ainsley!"

Funny the ideas the mind comes up with as it spirals towards the unknown.  She had loved The Nutcracker when she was younger ... not the ballet, but the music.  They had played in it their orchestra, before she had laid aside the trombone for the life she was living.  She hadn’t listened to classical in months, but in these moments, as she began to feel the tide wash her away, all she could hear was Tchaikovsky.  He was broken, but he would come save her.  He was her Nutcracker, her prince. 

Discord, sharp, natural, allegro, andante, moderato, forte, pianissimo, allegro, allegro, allegro.  Too fast and you’re wrong, too slow and you drag and nothing moves and no one’s moved.  You pour yourself into it, the music it spills from lips and hands as her blood was spilling from her small, broken body.  She would never get to the end, she would never make it.  She would never know how it finished, whether he would come and rescue her.  

"Ainsley!" 

She was sure she was beginning to slip.  She felt herself being lifted upwards, out of her entrapment.  There was a feeling of freedom, a rush of air.  Light was coming from somewhere ahead, and all of a sudden she felt warm, as though being wrapped in a blanket.  Was this death?  It didn’t seem so bad.  She was sure she could hear strings again, though this time it wasn’t Tchaikovsky.  It was her symphony, the musical accompaniment to her life, tripping to its final metre.  

Suddenly, the light was so intense.  There were hands on her, voices.  Angels maybe?  With one last swell of strength, she opened her eyes, fully expecting the pearly gates.  What she saw was even better.

Blue eyes, staring down, tearful.  Mussed black hair, ripped shirt.  Tie lost somewhere in the foray.  A cut across his perfect cheek.  

The final bar.  A hand in her own.

" Ainsley?"  Forgiveness, long sought harmony.  

Perfect Cadence.  

THE END


End file.
